


Dinner and a Show

by conceptofzero



Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-17
Updated: 2014-06-17
Packaged: 2018-02-05 00:51:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1799452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/conceptofzero/pseuds/conceptofzero
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You know, we could buy a large popcorn, empty it out, cut a hole in the bottom of the bucket, and then I could jerk you off just like that,” Itchy says to Quarters as his eyes slide over the menu, “we could even leave some of the popcorn in.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dinner and a Show

**Author's Note:**

> For Ray! Happy Birthday buddy!

“You know, we could buy a large popcorn, empty it out, cut a hole in the bottom of the bucket, and then I could jerk you off just like that,” Itchy says to Quarters as his eyes slide over the menu, “we could even leave some of the popcorn in.” 

“Fuck no, I’m not getting butter all over my dick.” Quarters has used up what little patience he has waiting in line to get into the theater. Waiting for snacks is barely tolerable and the only reason he’s still here is because he doesn’t trust Itchy to not do something fucking stupid like that with the food. He wants to eat and get jerked off, not one or the other. “I want the fucking malt balls. Get me a bag of them.” 

“Gross. Your taste in candy is so shitty.” Itchy steps up to the counter and slaps down fifty bucks. “Get me gross ass malt balls, two big sodas and one of everything else I can afford until the cash runs out.” 

The skinny Dersite kid behind the stand blinks a little before taking the cash. “Sure thing! What kind of soda?”

“Root beer for this asshole, Dr Zing for me.” Itchy leans on the counter, turning his back to the kid (and to the mounting pile of snacks). “We’ve got to get you a snack that doesn’t taste like shit.”

“Shut the fuck up.” He reaches over Itchy and grabs his bag of candy, shoving it in his pocket. “I fucking hate anything too sweet or sour.” 

“You’re such a whiney fuckstick.” Itchy keeps on slouching until the kid taps him on the shoulder. “Aw yeah, load me up!”

By the time they make it into the theater, the previews are showing and the lights are already down. Quarters and Itchy grab seats at the very back, away from most of the other people. Quarters sits down and amuses himself by watching Itchy drop his mountain of candy into the seat beside him. Then he shoves into Quarter’s lap, nearly spilling his drink. “Get out of my lap.”

“Nah.” Itchy says and promptly grinds down on Quarter’s dick. The big hand that was about to shove Itchy off stops in its tracks. He reluctantly lowers it, his dick winning this particular battle. Itchy just grins at him, grabbing a bag of some sour gummy candy and shoveling that shit into his mouth. 

Quarters gets the malt balls open and sets a few on the edge of his beak. He doesn’t like sweet things, but he sure loves the snapping sound malt balls make when you bite down on them. It’s satisfying, like scratching an itch or the feeling of his gatling gun rattling against his ribcage. 

They eat for a while in silence, which is about the only time Itchy’s quiet. The only other time is when he’s got his dick down Itchy’s throat so he can’t talk. Otherwise the motor mouth just keeps fucking talking about bullshit all day every day. Of course, he can’t sit still for longer than thirty seconds, and next thing Quarters knows, he’s got Itchy rubbing his ass down on him. The previews aren’t even over and Quarters is already getting hard. 

Quarters ends up dropping his snacks in the seat with Itchy’s, wrapping his arm around Itchy and leaning in to talk to him. “Are we even going to watch any of this movie?” 

“What, you can’t see over me? Come on, this is fucking perfect. We can both see the screen this way.” Itchy says and someone a few rows up shushes him. He flips him off and Quarters just makes an irritated sound. But he’s not anywhere near irritated enough to take his hand off Itchy. And he’s never too irritated to grind back against Itchy. 

The arm around Itchy holds him tight as they start rubbing up against each other. The theater’s not overly full, people dotted here and there. Nobody else is in the back row and there’s nobody here to notice the way Itchy keeps popping himself up as he rolls his hips, putting that good fucking pressure down on Quarters’ dick. He growls into Itchy’s ear, keeping his voice half-low. “You’re such a slut.”

“You love it.” Itchy runs his hands down his body and though he can’t see too clearly in the dark of the theater, he knows that Itchy’s got to be groping himself. Quarters just squeezes him again and shoves his hand down, knocking Itchy’s out of the way. He gives the mouthy little bastard a squeeze, just to hear him moan. There’s more shushing from other people. 

“Keep it fucking down.” Quarters gives him another hard squeeze but it only makes Itchy louder. He rolls his eyes and lets go of Itchy, cramming his hand over Itchy’s mouth. Quarters presses his beak against Itchy’s head, whispering as best he can. “I should have brought your gag with us.” 

Itchy mutters something, probably a ‘yes please’. He starts rubbing up against Quarters’ hand, his moans quieted now that he’s got a hand over his mouth. Itchy’s already hard just from rubbing down against Quarters’ dick and Quarters is pretty sure he could make him come just by rubbing him down. Might be fun actually, knowing that he’s got to walk out of here with an obvious wet spot in his pants. Itchy mumbles again, and it takes Quarters a while to realize what he’s asking for. He wants dirtytalk. Quarters glances at the screen where the movie’s playing out. It’s loud enough to drown him out if he talks, and after a quick glance to make sure no usher’s coming in to ruin their fun, he presses his beak back against the side of Itchy’s head. 

“You’re a needy fucking slut.” He hisses into Itchy’s ear. Itchy’s crotch thrusts up and rubs harder against the palm of Quarters’ hand. Knowing Itchy, he’ll come doing this, especially considering the crowd in front of them. They’re all turned away towards the bright theater screen but any of them could look back now and see the shadow of what’s happening. “I can’t take you anywhere without you trying to cram my cock in your ass.”

“Yeah yeah fuck yeah, do it,” Itchy mumbles into Quarter’s hand, his hips jerking back and forth between Quarters’ lap and palm. He wraps his hand tighter around Itchy’s mouth and feels mildly pissed that they’d hadn't brought a gag. If they had, Quarters could free up a hand to keep eating his malt balls. Instead he’s got both at work on Itchy, the left keeping the idiot quiet while the right yanks open the runt’s pants and shoves inside. 

“You probably wish they’d all turn around and watch you.” Quarters isn’t great at dirty talk but he’s fucked Itchy enough times to know what works by now. Direct crude statements and a rough handjob. Itchy’s leaking a little and Quarters just rubs the precum down his shaft, using it to prevent friction burns as he jerks him off real quick. “You’re a greedy piece of shit. Bet you’d suck off and eat out every last one of them.” 

Itchy moans into his palm and the sound is so tiny under the swell of the orchestra that only Quarters gets to hear it. He squeezes Itchy’s dick and feels him twitch and moan in his lap. Quarters is hard now and he doesn’t want to wait forever, so he takes his hand off Itchy’s dick and gets it between their bodies, yanking open his belt and fly. Itchy squirms away from Quarter’s hand and turns around to help out. “You better fuck me hard.” 

“What the fuck does that mean?” Quarters’ voice rises up, angry that Itchy would suggest that he ever does anything but fuck him hard, and they promptly get another wave of shushes. “Shut the fuck up! I’ll come up there-” 

It’s Itchy’s turn to grab onto Quarters’ beak and hold it shut. “Shut up and fuck me already. You can scream at them later when we’re done.” 

Quarters snaps his beak open but reluctantly settles for taking his irritation out on Itchy’s ass instead of the idiots ahead of him. They paid for their seats, they can fucking talk and be assholes if they want to. And if anybody interrupts them, he’s going to get out his gun and fucking teach them a lesson. 

He manhandles Itchy so he’s leaning over the seats in front of them, his ass right where Quarters can see it. Quarters gropes in Itchy’s coat pockets for the lube he always carries around. He used to think it was a stupid idea, but then he discovered there was nothing he liked more than fucking Itchy in public, and that there was nothing he liked less than trying to go in dry. Quarters still thinks it’s stupid, but it’s the kind of stupid that’s useful for him. 

“Two fingers, c’mon, do it, fucking stick them in me.” Itchy hisses at him. Quarters drips the lube over his dick and his fingers, and gives Itchy exactly what he’s demanding. It’s a tight fight to get two fingers in at once, but he manages it, twisting them and rocking his fingers in and out of Itchy’s ass until he’s stretched out enough to get them past the knuckles without a fight. 

On screen there are some boring ass shots of the yellow planet. He idly looks up at them as he gets Itchy stretched out, trying to figure out what happened so far. Who fucking cares though because it’s boring as hell and he’s got Itchy in front of him, half-leaning over the row of seats in front of them as Quarters finger-fucks him. Itchy’s breathing heavy and he’s got a hand in front of him, pulling on his dick faster than Quarters ever was. 

He has enough of waiting and pulls his fingers out of Itchy, yanking him back into his lap. His cock presses against Itchy’s cheeks and Quarters gets a hand on his shaft, lining it up. Quarters pushes his cock against Itchy’s entrance and then into him, shoving him down as far as he can go.

“Fuuuuuuuck me!” Itchy grunts out. His body spasms and the little bastard comes all over himself, all from being impaled on Quarters cock. He holds Itchy still as he finishes twitching and spurting on the seat in front of them. Itchy feels boneless as he collapses back on Quarters, his hands just sprawling out. “Yeeeeeaaah… okay… I’m done. We can stop and go back to the movie.” 

“Shut the fuck up.” Quarters scowls and just gets both hands on Itchy’s hips, holding him steady as he fucks him. It’s an awkward position they’re in and he keeps having to roll his hips up rather than just holding Itchy still as he thrusts into him. It doesn’t matter though - all that matters is how fucking tight Itchy is around his dick, and he is fucking tight. He keeps his sounds to a bare minimum, thrusting up into Itchy while dozens of people sit directly in front of them, ignorant to the fact that Itchy just creamed himself and Quarters is dick-deep inside of him. 

Itchy seems to recover after lazing around for a few minutes, straightening out a little and starting to rock again. He pushes a little further down on Quarters and lets his head loll back on Quarters’ shoulder, grinning up at him. “I thought you wanted to watch the movie?” 

Quarters answers that by shoving up into Itchy. The mouthy little prick just takes that as an invitation to start squirming around, slowly wiggling his ass down Quarters shaft. His hands grip Itchy’s waist tight and he hisses as Itchy just keeps on getting hotter and tighter. There’s not much leverage when he’s sitting down but he still manages to keep popping his hips up and thrusting shallowly into Itchy. 

They push against each other, panting and grunting softly underneath the film’s soundtrack. Quarters can technically watch the film this way since he’s facing forward but he can barely focus on what’s happening. A bunch of talking and yelling mostly. He’s more concerned with the way Itchy feels around him, and the fact that the idiot spunked all over his clothes. Quarters takes a hand off of Itchy’s hips (not the hand that was in Itchy’s mouth - he has some standards at least). He runs his fingers over some of the cum, scooping it up and then shoving the sticky mess into Itchy’s mouth. “Clean it up, I’m not walking out of here while you look like a fucking whore.” 

Itchy mumbles something and sucks Quarters fingers, bobbing his head like he’s got a cock between his lips. It looks as good as it feels, Itchy making a show out of it and running his tongue between Quarters’ fingers as he blows them. There’s an audible popping sound when he pulls his fingers out of Itchy’s mouth and Quarters’ cock twitches as he pushes deeper inside Itchy. “Somebody liked thaaaat.”

“Shut up.” He runs his hand over Itchy again, cramming three fingers in his mouth this time. Quarters refuses to admit how hot this is getting him, even if his dick isn’t exactly working with him. He gets tired of having Itchy grind down on his lap and gives up on subtly entirely, pushing them so Itchy’s bent back over the seat and he’s fucking him. There’s definitely an audience this time, some heads turning around in their seats to Quarters looming over Itchy and fucking him hard enough to be heard over the swelling music. 

Itchy’s fucking laughing, the idiot, and Quarters just blocks out everything else, thrusting again and again until all he can focus on is how tight and hot Itchy is around him. When he comes, he lets out a loud sound, shoving in as deep as he can possibly go. The orgasm rips through him as hard as he ripped through Itchy, leaving him with shaky legs and a glow in his crotch that feels like fucking paradise. Itchy’s squeezes hard around Quarters as he gives another few thrusts, pumping him full of cum. He pulls out before he’s entirely done, watching a strand spurt out and over Itchy’s back, before he collapses back in his seat. 

The fucking movie is still going. Quarters isn’t actually sure how far they are into it, only that there are people leaving the theater and he’s not sure they’re past the halfway mark. Itchy attempts to collapse into Quarter’s lap but Quarters catches him and shoves him over onto the other seat. “Don’t get that shit on me, you’re a fucking mess.”

“You’re the one who made me like that!” Itchy says, shoving Quarter’s arm. He leaves his pants down around his thighs, just lazing in the theater seat and getting it messy instead. There’s a little disaster zone around them where they’ve both gotten cum on things. Quarters tucks his dick away and buttons himself back up. He stares at the screen trying to figure out what the plot is, then gives up because who gives a fuck? Instead he paws through the pile of candy and grabs the malt balls, helping himself to another couple while Itchy keeps panting beside him. 

The lights come up and they both end up squinting, putting their hands over their eyes until they can adjust to the sudden light. The movie’s still playing but it’s washed away to hell. Quarters finally drops his hand and turns around to see who’s ended the movie.

It’s the kid from the concession stand and- oh shit. Quarters sighs and elbows Itchy. “Get your fucking pants on, Crowbar’s here.” 

“Heeeey Crowbar.” Itchy moves no move to get his pants on, lying on the chair with his dick still out. He waves a hand at Crowbar and the kid. “Here to see the movie?” 

“Get your pants up.” Crowbar glances over the seats and makes a face. “Are you serious? You couldn’t just get a hotel room?” 

“I wanted to watch a movie.” Quarters says. He crunches another malt ball. Itchy stands up and slowly gets his pants up, embarrassing the kid enough that he looks away from them. Crowbar doesn’t, giving Itchy a death-glare. “We didn’t kill anybody.” 

“I hope this was worth it because neither of you are leaving the mansion for the next few months-” Itchy squawks and Quarters fixes Crowbar with a just-you-try-it look. Crowbar’s pissed enough that he doesn’t back down either, walking over towards them with his crowbar in his hands. “-and you’re not leaving here until you clean up the mess you made.”

“Fuck you, I ain’t cleaning up.” Quarters snaps. He stands up, making sure to reminder Crowbar how much bigger he is. “Janitors are paid for this shit.” 

“Nobody on this planet is paid enough to clean up your cum, you stupid fuckers!” That’s enough to make even Quarters pause. Crowbar doesn’t swear much, and he rarely drops f-bombs. He’s more than just pissed off with them. This is real serious fury. Crowbar points at the mess. “This is getting cleaned up, then you’re giving Mot an apology for this-” He points to the kid before rounding on them again, “-and you’re staying at the mansion until you can behave.” 

“Urrgggggg, this sucks.” Itchy sighs loudly and stomps off towards the kid. “Where are the cleaning supplies?” 

Quarters knows he should back down, but he’s never been one for listening to common sense. He’s not about to let Crowbar tell him what to do, and he sure as fuck isn’t going to give anybody an apology. “Fuck you, I ain’t doing any of that. You can shove that crowbar up your ass-” 

He feels the point pressing against his spine before he hears Snowman speak up. “You’ll do as he says, or I’ll skewer you. It won’t kill you - Stitch is standing by to sew you back up. But it will certainly hurt a lot.” 

“Uh.” The kid says to Itchy. “They’re in the closet in the lobby. … could we put down like a drop cloth first if you’re going to cut him open? Blood is really hard to remove…” 

“Itchy, get a drop cloth.” Crowbar says, not looking away from Quarters. The point in his back presses down harder, putting a hole in his jacket and digging into his flesh. Quarters grits his beak, glaring back at Crowbar. He should have known Snowman would be here. How else could he have gotten here so soon? 

There’s a blur of motion and Itchy is back with the cleaning supplies, and with a heavy drop cloth that he throws down on the snack seat. “Come on, let’s get this over with. Unless you’re really desperate to let her fuck you up.” 

Quarters is tempted to do it anyway out of spite. But he can hear that tone in Itchy’s voice that says if he doesn’t go along with this, then he’ll be stabbed and he won’t get blown for the next month. He exhales loudly, grabbing a bucket of water out of Itchy’s hands and slopping it around. “I’m fucking sorry.” 

“Yeah sorry kid, we were just having fun.” Itchy finger-guns in his direction. “Remember to drink your milk! Stay in school!” 

“I don’t go to school.” He says, and everybody ignores him except for Crowbar, who forgets to be angry long enough to be concerned. What the fuck is even going on here? Who cares about some kid? 

“You don’t go to school?” Crowbar starts into it and Quarters feels the lance withdraw. He turns around to look at Snowman, giving her the stinkeye he’s been saving for Crowbar. They stare each other down for a bit while Crowbar keeps talking in the background. “Does your mom know?”

“Yeah of course. I mean, she needs help running this place since it’s just us-” Quarters tunes the kid out entirely. He keeps his eyes on Snowman as he splashes water on the seat and Itchy rubs it down. These two are going to pay for this. There’s nothing he can do about it right now, but when he can, he’s going to make sure they regret this bullshit. 

“Hey. You missed a spot.” Itchy says, prodding his stomach. 

Quarters is finally forced to look away from Snowman, checking to see what’s still not clean. He doesn’t see anything. “Where?” 

“Are you blind or something? You made a huuuuuge mess right here!” Itchy turns around and wiggles his ass at Quarters. He does the only thing he can do and dumps the rest of the water down Itchy’s pants.


End file.
